


Every Which Way but Loose

by caffeinechesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:51:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinechesters/pseuds/caffeinechesters
Summary: Sam and Dean finally have a home in the bunker.





	Every Which Way but Loose

**Author's Note:**

> For the Wincest Writing Challenge March 2018. My prompt: Kansas: Illegal to throw snowballs

If someone would have told Dean that he’d end up back in Kansas after living life on the road since he was four, he would have laughed. Sam, Baby, the box of cassettes under the seat, and a full tank of gas is all what he needed to be home; however, the batcave was pretty nice after everything is settled. The water pressure was good, a seemingly endless supply of hot water, and other creature comforts that he never thought would be possible. Sam seemed to be more on edge since moving in, not taking it as well as him. Hell, Dean noticed that Sam hadn’t really decorated his room, unless piles of books and office supplies on the desk count. Dean didn’t understand how Sam could not not love the permanent base; he ran to Stanford and had normal for 4 years, what was different this time.

Dean tried making it seem homier for Sam. He even made sure to get some rabbit food while stocking up the kitchen. Dean cooked for Sam sort of healthy foods, too. Slowly, Sam seemed to acclimate to the idea the bunker. Maybe not the way Dean has, but at least he knows that Sam will most likely be in the library, nose buried in a book or working on updating the catalogue to laptop. Sam really only seemed to use his bedroom to crash in, going by the way his flannels were often thrown over the chair or the floor. Or how Dean would find Sam face down in a book asleep. It was slow going and Dean had hopes by at least Christmas Sam will have some holiday spirit to decorate (which will be less morose, less painful than the last time they celebrated).

Christmas time rolled up pretty quickly, the back to back hunts and Sam’s obsessive need to organize the library by the start of the new year seemed to help the weeks blend together. Dean had planned to get them a tree this year, getting up early to surprise Sam, instead of a clear road from the garage he was expecting, he is met with snow. Sighing, he starts looking for a shovel to clear a path. In his haste, makes a lot of noise, which brings Sam down to the garage. His brother, looking disheveled but like everybody’s wet dream (“Brother” a part of his mind tells him), looks inquisitively as Dean is starting to shovel.

“What are you doing, Dean,” Sam starts, “And why are you up this earlier?”

Dean has no good answer unless he wants to spoil the surprise. He does not want to spoil the surprise. So what he does is grabs a handful of snow, packs it, and throws it at Sam.

“Really, Dean? You know it’s illegal to throw a snowball in Kansas,” Sam says, in such a petulant little brother tone.

“What, really? What kind of law is that,” comes tumbling out of Dean’s mouth before he’s even aware. “An even better question is when did geek boy learn that.”

“C’mon, you don’t think that the Men of Letters didn’t have a book on the laws of Kansas,” Sam starts, which gets interrupted by another snowball. Right in his face. Dean thinks it’s awesome to see Sam go from former pre-Law student to pissed off little brother.

Dean decides it’s less awesome when between laughs he’s gets a face full of snow. It’s on then, just like the time when they were bored kids in a blizzard in Wisconsin and their dad was inside the cabin nursing a hangover. Only this time John won’t come out to separate them when it becomes unruly.

An hour later, a garage littered with remnants of snowballs, and a little brother who’s teeth are chattering (and blue-ish fingertips), Dean calls a cease fire. Sam agrees to it only to stick a handful of snow down the back of Dean’s shirt. He grins and bears it, not to give Sam anymore glee in his suffering. He shoos his brother inside to see how bad Sam’s hands look after throwing all those snowballs without gloves. They’re red and angry looking, but as angry and sore looking as his feet, which Jesus you’d think he would’ve put on socks or shoes or something before coming into the garage.

“C’mon Sasquatch, we need to warm you up,” Dean states trying to direct him to his room. “How about some Netflix while we wait for your body temperature to rise.”

Sam goes along with Dean, letting himself be pushed into his bed under the covers (Sam doesn’t want Dean to know that this is child’s play compared to the cage) and is allowed to pick what they’re going to watch while Dean runs to get more blankets. When Dean comes back with a couple of blankets and coffee, Sam has already picked a documentary out. It’s about porn and Dean is excited. A little bit later Dean is not as excited as he was when it first started but it’s interesting he decided when the credits roll. Sam looks warmer, flushed almost since the movie started. Dean again has to tell himself “little brother” before his mind wanders to does Sam gets flushed after sex.

“See Dean documentaries aren’t all boring,” Sam remarks, breaking Dean out of his slight revelery,

“What? Oh yeah, but not all documentaries are about porn stars, Sammy,” Dean responds. “Mmm.. Asia Carrera. Beautiful and smart.”

Dean turns to Sam just in time to witness Sam give him a bitch face. It makes Dean laugh because he knows that Sam caught him jerking off in high school to one of her movies so this is not new information. He remembers Sam throwing his soccer shirt over his face and going on about he didn’t need to see that. He shouldn’t add fuel to fire of Sam’s bitchiness, but he instead he spits out, “Aw, is Sammy jealous that I find another person beautiful and smart?”

Pause. Beat. And Dean realizes that he just told Sam in his own way that he finds him smart and beautiful. Shit, shit, shit. Sam is looking at him funny and concerned and maybe like he just gave him everything he needed to know.

“What if I am,” Sam responds, gauging, calculating, and shit, Dean is screwed. He sits stunned, back against the headboard, their hands close enough that Sam could grab him if he went for the escape. Joking, Dean thinks, will defuse this.

“Don’t worry Samantha, you’ll always be the fairest in the land,” Dean said. 

“You and I both know that isn’t what I meant,” Sam states turning to face Dean. And dammit, only his little brother could look like an overgrown puppy and an Adonis, and Dean feels exposed.

“What do you want me say Sam,” Dean throws back. 

“That you love me more than brother like I do,” Sam yells out. 

Dean can’t look away, stunned into silence, and still reeling from the fact that Sam apparently feels the same. Coming back into the moment when he feels Sam trying to slip away Dean grabs his wrist while apologizing noticing it’s cold and clammy, saying he must of read it wrong, and trying to run.

“Sam, calm down,” he starts rubbing his thumb on Sam’s wrist, noticing it’s hummingbird beat. “I can’t believe I’m about to have a chick flick moment here, but Sam. How could not I love you more than a brother? You’ve always been my everything. Just let’s go slow because I don’t want to fuck this up. So how about I pick a movie and make this a date?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’d like that,” Sam relaxes back into the bed.

“Great. Now how about we watch “Every Which Way but Loose”?” Dean smirks at hearing Sam groan, Christmas tree and the snow outside forgotten.


End file.
